


i am lost, i am vain, i will never be the same

by nerdyglow



Category: Rush (2013)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Gratuitous Smut, Knotting, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscarriage, Misery, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Pregnant Sex, Rimming, Shower Sex, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyglow/pseuds/nerdyglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Niki is a secret omega who unexpectedly goes into heat at the 1976 British Grand Prix. James, being an Alpha, takes care of him, and things go awry to say the least. Please, please, read the tags and be warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. fuck you; fuck me

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear god. I don't even know where this came from. I think I ought to be locked up, and it's not even finished. It was supposed to be a smutty one-shot, but appears to be evolving into an multi-chaptered epic involving serious feelings and stuff. Yikes. Okay, here we go.
> 
> Just to be clear, this is about James Hunt and Niki Lauda as portrayed by Chris Hemsworth and Daniel Bruhl in Ron Howard's _Rush_. It is NOT RPF, and clearly never happened between the real drivers, etc. No offence is intended whatsoever.
> 
> Also, see [this post at my Tumblr](http://nerdyglow.tumblr.com/post/62060491002/rush-2013-omegaverse-headcanon-because-im-fucking) for a bit of explanation as to how racing works in this omegaverse, if you're interested. I decided to set this at the British Grand Prix because in the film it wasn't shown, and they changed it so that Hunt won instead of being disqualified. So I just messed around with it a bit more.
> 
> Title from 'Without You' by David Guetta (ft. Usher) and lyrics at the beginning from 'Topless' by Breaking Benjamin.
> 
> (Oh, and there's a bit of vomiting at the beginning, just in case anyone wants to skip past it. Then again, there's a lot of vomiting in the movie itself, so I'm sure no one will mind. Just considering the emetophobes out there, since I'm one myself. :3)

  
**i.**

'i love your face.  
just get away.  
i'm on my knees.  
fuck you. fuck me.'  


Formula One drivers are mostly betas, sometimes Alphas and never omegas.

The same goes for the mechanics and the driver's team. The danger would just be too great otherwise. Of course, no one can stop omegas coming to the races as spectators, but security is in place and people can take responsibility for themselves.

The risk of racing is enough without the chance of a someone in the pits, or worse still, in their car going into heat. Crashes. Pile-ups. Some hormone-crazy fool running onto the track and getting decimated. A 20% chance of dying is enough.

Which is why Niki Lauda has been on suppressants since he'd made the decision to become a driver.

They're good suppressants. The most expensive and best out there, in fact. They not only stop his heat cycles so he doesn't even feel a flicker, but there's something in them that most suppressants lack – they mask his scent, too. And he's become World Champion without a single person finding out he's an omega. The only one who knows is Marlene. She's his wife. It would be ridiculous to try hiding it from her. And anyway, he can't bear to lie to her.

Niki has seen Hunt vomiting his guts up before every race. He'd sneered at him for it, in fact. Thought him weak, letting his nerves best him, every single time. 

When it happens to Niki, he stupidly thinks nothing of it. 

He'll kick himself later – Niki Lauda, who's attention to detail is second to none, and it is his undoing. His mind is so full of the race, so full beating the incorrigible Hunt who has finished his own vomiting session and is getting ready to be strapped in. And it doesn't occur to him, not even for a moment, that he's just shot himself in the foot, regurgitated this morning's suppressant and ruined his chances to win this race.

Marlene's hand is soft, patient, in the small of his back as he shudders, retches, spits.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Niki says, a little shortly. She won't mind – he's always short with everyone, especially before a race, and she smiles and hands him a bottle of water. He takes a sip, swills it around his mouth to rid it of the taste and spits again. 

And then it's time, and he's getting into his Ferrari and being strapped in and feeling unusually hot, and still he doesn't realise. Like a fucking idiot. 

His doctor has told him that suppressants are dangerous to take for years at a time. One mistake, and what feels like every heat an omega has suppressed will hit them with the force of the Ferarri Niki is in now. Most omegas take a break from suppressants every year, giving their body a time to adjust. Niki has never done so, telling himself he can't take the chance of anyone finding out. He'd be banned from the only thing he's ever cared about in his life. He can't have that.

The race starts well. Yes, it's getting unbearably hot and Niki can feel sweat soaking into his mask, but that's happened before. He roars ahead, taking no prisoners, and gets a good lead on Hunt. And the rest. But it's Hunt that really matters. 

He doesn't get worried until around the twentieth lap, when he begins to feel like his skin is going to crawl off. There's a low throb in the pit of his stomach and a twinge in his groin, and yet he's still stupid enough to be oblivious to what's going on. He hasn't felt the effects of a heat for years, and it's unfamiliar and extremely unwelcome. His concentration wavers. His arms tremble and he grips the steering wheel tighter, very aware that his palms are sweating too, inside his gloves.

The laps slip by, and Hunt – that fucker! - gains the lead. Niki shudders from head to foot, his cheeks flaming, his heart thudding painfully hard. Perhaps he has a fever? It certainly feels that way. 

Niki speeds into the pit, burning with humiliation and feeling as if he is about to pass out. 

“What's wrong with the car?” his mechanic yells, and Niki shakes his head, rips off his helmet and tries to breathe.

“Nothing. Feel faint.”

“You are sick?” someone asks from behind him.

“I don't know.” Niki takes his hand from the wheel and slaps himself across the face, back and forth, hard. Perhaps he is sick – he never gets sick, but it makes sense. The vomiting, the fever-like haze that has taken over. But he still feels well enough to finish the race. He has to be.

He speeds away, muttering swear words under his breath and tensing his muscles to kill the shudders wracking his body. The race is fifty-two laps and there are fourteen to go. He can get through this, sickness or not. The strange thing is, he doesn't feel unwell – just hot, uncomfortable, feverish but in a way that's actually quite pleasant – _shit_.

It's all too familiar now, this desperate, tugging feeling. He's getting wet, squirming as best he can in the restrictive cockpit. But it hasn't come full-force yet. Perhaps he still has time. If he can complete the race – and the clouds are gathering overhead – that's good, rain will mask the scent of his heat – and no one will have to know if he gets the fuck out of here as quick as possible.

Niki is four laps from the finish when he gives in. His vision is swimming, he can feel his slickness soaking through to the car seat, and his cock is hard and aching. This is why they never let omegas drive. He almost crashes into another driver – doesn't see whom, doesn't care, and that's the turning point. There's too much danger, and he feels out of control. Moaning low in the back of his throat, Niki veers into the pit. As he grinds to a stop, Marlene is looking at him, several meters away. She blanches, runs over to the car, her lips in a hard line.

“Niki,” she leans in and whispers urgently, right in his ear “You vomited up your – ”

She doesn't have to say any more. Niki spits a curse. How pathetic. Heat, fucking heat. The first time since he was a teenager, and it has to be _now_. He could cry with frustration. Marlene is a beta. The mechanics are all betas. No one can help him. Not that he would ask, even if they could.

“Is something wrong with the car?” someone shouts at his ear, and Niki closes his eyes. He's so glad that they're all betas, that it's started to drizzle. Hopefully no one will smell his rapidly intensifying heat and he can get away without ruining his fucking career.

“No, I'm – I'm sick. Let me out.” Niki says, his voice coming out desperate and rasping.

He's just stepped out of the car when Hunt flashes past in a roar of V12 sound, and a wave of scent hits him like a hammer blow. Niki reels, gasping, knees weak and he stumbles back into Marlene and she strokes gently over his elbow. Even the light touch makes him bite back a groan, and the flood of an Alpha's scent sends a gush of slick between his thighs.

“Hunt,” Niki whispers to Marlene. “He's a fucking Alpha.”

She looks at him, stricken. They can't leave, just like that. Someone would inevitably put two and two together – the vomiting, the fever and the abrupt departure. The rain is coming heavier now, and since no one knows as of yet that Niki is an omega, they might be able to get away with this. If anyone scents an omega in heat, they'll surely think it's coming from one of the crowd or – or – fuck. _Fuck_. He has to get away, as soon, as _soon_ as it won't cause suspicion.

The last two laps pass in a blur. Hunt wins, of course. Niki tries not to watch him, but he smells so fucking good, and he looks magnificent as he rears out of his car, tall and huge and _Alpha_. They're both fugitives – omegas in heat would be the cause of more danger on a racetrack, but James looks like he's going to break everything down right now. As the press crowd around him, Hunt looks over and catches Niki's clouded, half-lidded eyes.

Hunt has scented him. God, this is revolting. Niki whimpers in pain and humiliation; just the sight of Hunt's feral gaze has him squirming and gulping, crushing his soaked thighs together.

“I have to leave, now, right fucking now,” he snarls, turning, wanting to get as far away from Hunt as he can and at the same time wanting _desperately_ to be near him. Hunt's Alpha scent has brought the full force of Niki's heat on him, and he's close to tears now. It hurts. He wants to run out there in the rain, to where Hunt is surrounded by paps, girls, his pit crew, admirers – and shove them all out of the way and collapse on the wet tarmac and let Hunt mount him right here in front of everyone.

*

Marlene, wonderful goddess that she is even though she cannot help, lets it be known to the press that Niki has been taken ill and drives him back to the hotel. The drive is entirely too long for Niki, who writhes and cries in the back seat, doing his best to keep out of sight of any unsuspecting folk wandering down the street. He's pale and sweating, moaning and pulling at his horribly stifling suit.

“Keep it on,” Marlene warns gently, “You'll need to get to the room. I'll find some kind of help.”

She means she'll phone a doctor – and possibly pay that doctor off to keep his mouth shut that the Formula One World Champion is an omega who is currently whimpering to be fucked, remembering the scent of his uncouth, aggressive rival, and imagining he can still smell it.

Niki makes it to the hotel room, just barely – thanking god that the lift and corridors are empty of people, while Marlene asks for the number of the nearest surgery at reception. He unlocks the door with shaking fingers and collapses, groaning, onto the bed, fumbling to rid himself of his clothes. Naked, Niki kicks away the covers and buries his face in the pillows. The image in his mind is still of Hunt, his gaze full of wanting when they'd locked eyes, and he wishes they'd met another Alpha - _any_ other Alpha on the way in so he wouldn't have to think about Hunt. Because Niki's ability to think rationally is dissolving rapidly – he's getting to the point where he just _wants_ , and he desperately wants Hunt.

He tries a cold shower, to take the edge off the fever mostly, and also to wash away the slick that's made it's way almost past his knees. It makes him feel the tiniest bit better – at first. And then his traitorous mind shows him an image of Hunt showering – rippling with muscle, water drops shining on his skin – and Niki's skin is so humming-sensitive he can't even towel himself off, and in the time it takes to walk back to the bed, he's dripping wet all over again.

The next hour, which feels like twelve of them, is nothing short of torturous. 

Niki hasn't dealt with a heat for years, doesn't know what he's supposed to do with himself. There has to be a way to find some kind of relief without an Alpha. Or do all omegas who don't use suppressants go through this agony every month? How, just _how_ do they fucking bear it? It's so undignified, not to mention that he thinks he might actually go mad. And there's no way to know how long it'll last. He's suppressed too many heats to be sure. Longer than five days, that's for certain. Niki groans and considers throwing himself from the hotel window.

He lies on his back and tries hard to think about neutral, soothing things – a blue sky, a still lake, all that bullshit – and of course, what he actally thinks about is Hunt's cock. (Niki's first few heats had been taken care of by a professional Alpha paid by his family – another privilege, like his suppressants, only available to the most wealthy and prodigious – so he's not entirely ignorant of how this works.) His mind's eye focuses on the bulge at the apex of James's thighs (not that he's ever looked at it, but he can very well imagine the size of it in relation to the size of James himself) and conjures for him the lovely, thick shape of his cock. Niki whimpers, fucking _whimpers_ , rolls over and rubs his own aching hardness against the mattress like a schoolboy. He's disgusted with himself almost to the point of nausea, but he can't stop, and when, inevitably, he imagines Hunt's knot inside him, he comes – without even a shade of satisfaction, crying out into one of the hotel pillows, his slick running down between his buttocks and saturating the sheets.

That's when he becomes aware of the incredibly strong scent of an Alpha somewhere near. It smells like Hunt, but maybe all Alpha pheromones smell the same when one is in heat. Hunt can't be here. He'll be off somewhere drinking himself into oblivion and fucking some woman – Niki moans quietly at that thought – celebrating his win. The smell is intoxicating; it only serves to make Niki all the more hard and wet. Before long he'll be running downstairs into the foyer in the nude and begging any Alpha to fuck him. 

The scent is getting rapidly stronger, Niki realises the Alpha in question is about to pass right by his room. They'll be able to smell him – the scent of an omega in heat has probably permeated the whole hotel by now, or at least the whole floor and probably the ones above and below it. Niki doesn't care at this point – he'll let this Alpha who smells like Hunt fuck him and then pay him enough to keep it to himself that Niki Lauda is an omega.

“ _Niki_ ,” this deep, British voice comes through the door and Niki is moaning in reply before he can stop himself.

It _is_ Hunt. 

“Go away!” Niki practically shrieks.

“You know I can't!” Hunt snarls. “Open the fucking door, Lauda, or I'll break it down.”

“Fuck you!”

“Listen! I'm going fucking mad.”

“ _You're_ going mad?!” Niki spits. “I think I'm dying! This fucking hurts!”

“I know it does,” Hunt says, voice gentler now. “I could smell you after the race. I could smell you in the fucking lift. I know how much pain you must be in. What went wrong with your suppressants?”

“Why do you care?!”

“Niki.” There's a soft thump, as if Hunt has let his forehead fall against the door. Niki can picture him there, eyes closed. His scent is overwhelming, it's all Niki can do not to go over and start rutting against the door. “I'm an Alpha. I know you're not completely stupid even though you've been stifling your body's biology for years. You know how this goes. Open the door and let me take care of you.”

Despite all the animosity between them, Hunt wants to protect him. Hunt's hormones are dictating that he _must_ protect Niki. And no matter how much of an asshole Hunt is, Niki wants him so fucking badly he might tear out his hair.

“Okay, okay, fuck, shit,” Niki mutters, drags himself from the bed and unsnaps the lock.

Hunt is inside the room faster than Niki can comprehend him. His eyes flicker from Niki's flushed, sweaty face to the rumpled bed to Niki's trembling, utterly vulnerable body. All Niki can focus on – damn his _fucking_ gender - is the very obvious erection making itself known against the front of Hunt's trousers. Which very soon hit the floor and Niki almost swoons. Hunt is _huge_ \- thick and blood-dark and almost visibly pulsing – Niki has to swallow hard and blink stupidly and struggle with how much he wants it coupled with the fact that it belongs to his rival.

And then he doesn't think about that any more, because Hunt's arm slips possessively around Niki's waist and drags him to the bed, letting him fall gently back, spreading his legs and slipping between them. A high needy whimper tears itself from the back of Niki's throat – he can feel his entrance twitching at Hunt's proximity, dripping fresh slick onto the sheets. Without a word, his eyes blue and steely and locked on Niki's, Hunt seizes his cock and slides into Niki with a sharp thrust of his hips.

“You'll be okay now,” Hunt groans, voice tight, “I'm going to give you what you need.”

“Shut up,” Niki whimpers – he wants Hunt's body, not his sympathy, but his voice is all begging and gratitude and pleasure. The relief is immense; he's sure it was never like this with the Alpha his father paid, and he shudders up against Hunt, wrapping his legs around Hunt's waist, urging him deeper. His body accepts Hunt's enormous cock with an ease that would worry him if he had the capacity to worry right now. It's all stretch and slide and so unbelievably good, Niki moans and presses his face into Hunt's neck to inhale the pheromones.

“I like you better this way,” Hunt says, “My god, you're so wet, it's delicious.” and he's dipping his head to bite at Niki's neck, sucking a purple bruise onto his skin – shit, people will see that, but Niki can't bring himself to care right now.

“Please!” he cries, snarling, arching his back and meeting Hunt's thrusts. "Give me your fucking cock, Hunt!"

“Niki, Niki, hey,” Hunt moans, and something in his voice is soothing. “I need you to calm down a bit. I'm going to make you come before I knot you – is that all right? Do you think you can?”

“No, I need your – I need – ” Niki thrashes his head from side to side against the mattress as Hunt moves a hand between them, wrapping it warm and tight around his aching, neglected cock. He's been spilling pre-come almost as much as slick since the heat struck and Hunt's hand is immediately coated in it, sliding easily up and down his length.

An impressive stream of swear words flies from Niki's mouth without his permission, and he can feel Hunt grinning against his skin.

“That's right, love.” he says softly, “If you want my knot, you've got to come for me.”

“Not enough!” Niki pleads, lip between his teeth, spreading his legs as wide as he can so Hunt can push deeper inside him. Hunt catches hold of one thigh, pulling it up, pressing it into Niki's shoulder. The angle of his thrusts changes so suddenly and Niki _keens_ , throwing his head back onto the pillow so Hunt can bite his neck again. And still his hand is moving, relentless on Niki's throbbing cock.

“Come on, Niki,” Hunt growls softly, “Come, come for me.”

And it's like a switch flips in Niki's mind. He finds himself helpless to obey, hips juddering up to meet Hunt's and spilling in a hot flood all over Hunt's hand and his own stomach and chest. He can feel slick pouring out of him even around Hunt's impressive girth.

“There you go, love.” 

Hunt pulls out and Niki gasps painfully at the loss – it didn't feel like completion, it felt like the floodgates and he wants Hunt back, _now_ , inside him and fucking him until they can't breathe.

“Hunt, if you stop, I won't be responsible for my actions, I swear – ”

“Hey,” Hunt puts one hand out and presses his fingers against Niki's lips (Niki viciously swipes them away). “Didn't I say I would take care of you?”

“No,” says Niki through clenched teeth, “You said you'd give me what I need.”

“Can you perhaps be less pedantic for a _second_?” Hunt rolls his eyes. “Trust me. Just for this. Now, I want you on all fours.”

“Just because I'm in heat does _not_ mean you get to treat me like your bitch.” Niki spits, but his need is a white agony now, he can feel it behind his eyes.

Hunt mutters a swear word and grabs Niki roughly again – just the touch of his hands has Niki sighing and pliant and exactly how he doesn't want to be. Hunt manhandles him onto his front and yanks his hips roughly, pulling his arse into the air. 

“Well, look at that,” Hunt says almost dreamily as Niki presses his forehead into his arm and closes his eyes. 

The touch of Hunt's finger sliding in slick, from the base of his spine all the way down between his buttocks to the his quivering entrance makes him moan low and long in pleasure and need and humiliation. Fresh slick runs down over Hunt's wrist and he exhales softly.

“Get on with it,” Niki snaps, “Give me your knot. Please.”

“See? You _are_ capable of asking nicely.” 

“Fuck you.”

Hunt laughs quietly, his huge hands wrapping around Niki's hipbones. 

“Rather fuck _you_ ,” he snickers, and then slides abruptly back inside, making Niki shout and his cock pulses again. God, how can he be so ready to come less than five minutes after his last orgasm? He clenches his hands in the sheets and ruts back helplessly to push Hunt inside him, harder, quicker, _please_ \- 

“I'm not made of _glass_ , James,” he snarls, “Give it to me.”

“You little slut,” James growls back, but there's no venom in his voice; more reverence and even affection. “You're so fucking gorgeous like this, Niki. All begging and pretty and wet for me. If anyone else had smelled you earlier I would have fought them off to get inside you – ah, fuck, want you so bad, Niki...”

This is all his Alpha hormones talking. Niki has the sense to keep his mouth shut, but then, Hunt was never very good at doing that. Niki bites down hard on his lip and comes _twice_ , tears of sheer fucking pleasure spilling down his cheeks while Hunt continues his rhapsody about Niki's arse and cock and skin and 'fucking lovely supple lithe - _oh,_ fuck - '

Niki never gets to find out what part of him is lovely and supple and lithe, because Hunt goes still, to the hilt inside him and exhales sharply. He feels the warm, powerful rush inside him as Hunt begins to come and then – and then, finally, his knot swells huge and ties them together. It stretches and fills him so perfectly and Niki's coming again, unbelievably, clenching around that knot to draw Hunt's essence out of him. He can't help but open his mouth and let go the _filthiest_ litany of praise and desperation and ecstasy. All in his native language. He can't have Hunt knowing what he'll say in the heat of the moment. He couldn't abide Hunt knowing he's stolen Clay's words and called him 'an immortal fuck'. Because it's just the heat talking. Of course it is.

When he's finally finished coming, Hunt's arm moves warmly around Niki's waist and eases them onto their sides, Hunt's chest against Niki's back. 

“How many times have you come?” Hunt asks softly, breath right in his ear, and Niki shivers and whimpers again because Hunt's orgasm and that fucking knot have him trembling on the edge all over again.

“F-five,” he gasps, “Once, before you got here.”

“Good,” Hunt sucks at his neck for a moment, pulsing his hips in tiny movements that force his knot just that bit deeper inside Niki, and it makes him bite on his lip again and rut himself back into it. “And again for me, okay? Then you'll be able to sleep for a while, I should think.”

Hunt certainly seems to know what he's doing. Niki wonders how many omegas in heat Hunt has seen to before, and the twinge of jealousy he feels is most unwelcome and rather alarming.

Nevertheless, Niki lets Hunt hold onto his hips and continue that sweet, deep rocking. He tries not to moan quite so wantonly this time, but it's no good – he's so full of Hunt's cock, and Hunt's come, and when Hunt turns Niki to face him with warm fingers at his cheek and kisses his mouth all wet and open, Niki lets him. This time, the orgasm is slow and powerful. Niki feels it all over his body. His lips part against Hunt's and he groans ecstatically into the kiss, wondering why the fuck he's being made to feel so good in the hands of _this_ particular Alpha. 

It hurts exquisitely where Hunt has bitten him and the sheets are soaked, ruined, probably the mattress will have to be paid for too. None of it matters. Niki falls into a fitful sleep with Hunt still inside him and his mouth burning from his rival's kiss.


	2. naked and breathless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this is a whole bunch of angst and porn. And next chapter, there will be more porn and probably more angst and then hopefully some fluff, if the boys do as they're told. So I apologize for the angst, hope you enjoy the smut, and um... *hides*
> 
> Also I wanted to say THANK YOU for such a fantastic response to this fic. I honestly expected nothing of the kind when I posted it. Everyone who has read, bookmarked, left kudos and commented, you all made my week. :3 Hope the second part lives up to your expectations.
> 
> Oh and lyrics from 'Hatefuck' by The Bravery. A very appropriate song for this ship.

  
**ii.**

'naked and breathless,  
could you live with this disgrace?  
could you live? could you live?  
could you live with this?'

_The track is awash with rain again, the colours of cars and people and sky swimming and running into each other before Niki's eyes, and it makes his head pound. Niki's heat is still raging through him, worse than ever. He'd thought it was bad before Hunt had arrived, but it's a thousand times worse now he knows what he's missing. Hunt is at the other end of the paddock, talking to his mechanic, and the crowd is roaring. Niki makes his legs move – they're heavy and dragging beneath him, but he walks towards Hunt and finds himself yelling out something he can't understand. It's just a noise, an undignified, animal noise, and a wave of disgust at himself rolls through Niki's stomach._

_Hunt turns to him, at last, looking at him with total disdain. His Alpha scent is more powerful than ever. Niki bites down on his lip, has to wrap his arms around himself, and he can't speak again. He simply whines at Hunt, pleadingly, thinking_ here, here's my last scrap of dignity, James. Enjoy it. _Niki goes to his knees before Hunt, looking down at the wet tarmac and nudges his head against Hunt's thigh. Behaving like this in front of the mechanics and the crowd is fucking awful, but it's nothing compared with the boiling, churning desperation of his heat, and it's worth it to know Hunt is there to help him._

_Until Hunt kicks him away with a derisive laugh._

_“What the fuck are you up to, rat?” he says, “Get away from me.” Then he leans down and inhales Niki's scent in a big sniff. “Oh!” He laughs again, deep and right from his chest. “In heat, are we? Well, this is something!”_

_The roar of the crowd suddenly swells and when Niki looks up, Hunt is making obscene gestures, pointing to him, laughing his magnificent blond head off. Niki moans in despair and pain, putting his hands up to his face and curling in on himself. The sound of Hunt's laughter echoes around him..._

Niki wakes violently, shooting into a sitting position and staring, wide-eyed, around the room. It's warm in here, far too warm, and sticky, and sometime while he'd slept, Hunt has withdrawn from his body and is lying beside him, smiling softly. Niki's skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and as well as Hunt's Alpha pheremones, all around him and on him and in him, Niki can smell _himself_. How vile. That means his heat is raging hotter than hell, and he stares at Hunt in combined desire and terror, the remnants of the dream still playing in his mind.

“Are you all right? Is it worse? I thought it would be. God, you smell so good.” Hunt says. He puts a hand gently into the small of Niki's back, and Niki cries out and jerks away. Hunt's expression changes in an instant from concerned and mildly affectionate to confused and hurt, but all Niki can think is that this sweet behaviour is just the Alpha in him. Because Hunt hates him. Hunt, in the past called him an arsehole and a rat and did cruel impressions of him with his teeth pressed over his lower lip. And Niki is not a whore to his hormones, nor a slave to his gender. No matter that Hunt smells like a fucking dream and he's everything Niki wants right now.

Niki scrambles off the bed and runs into the bathroom, heedless of the slick painting his thighs all over again. He quickly locks the door seconds before Hunt reaches it. For the second time today, he hears Hunt's forehead thump gently against the door and the handle shakes violently.

“Come the fuck out of there, you idiot!” Hunt shouts. Niki cringes away from the door, but Hunt's voice isn't disdainful as it had been in his head. It's frantic, panicked, even.

“Piss off!” Niki tries to yell, but there's no power in it. It comes out pleadingly.

“What are you doing to yourself, you _stubborn_ fool?!”

“I can handle this,” Niki insists, although the writhing need inside him is making his vision blur. “You can go now. Th-thank you for helping, but...”

Hunt doesn't say anything this time. He just growls, low and completely feral. The sound vibrates through Niki's body. His cock twitches painfully and warm slick pours from his entrance. It's obscene. For a second, Niki thinks he might vomit. He leans quickly over the sink, retching painfully, but nothing comes up.

“Do you know that you could die without an Alpha?” Hunt says after a moment of silence. 

Niki feels himself blanch. He hadn't known that. 

“What do you mean?” he asks softly.

“I spoke with your wife and a doctor while you were sleeping. You've suppressed years of heats, and they're all hitting you at once, and it could kill you.”

“And why do you care?” Niki repeats, “You'd win the championship and you could all have a laugh at my expense.”

“I swear,” Hunt snarls, “If I didn't want to breed you so badly, I'd punch you.”

“I would rather you punch me.” It's a bare-faced lie, and they both know it. Niki is increasingly faint, has to clutch the edges of the sink to stay upright. Could this heat really kill him? It certainly feels possible. And it wouldn't be quick, either. 

“Then I'll punch you when you're out of your heat. Even so, I don't want you to die. Don't make me destroy this door. The bed's already ruined.”

“No,” Niki breathes, the fight draining out of him. Despite himself, a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“Come on,” Hunt wheedles, and he sounds soft now, his scent is stronger now Niki has stopped battling his body so hard. “Whatever I've said to you before, I can't have you die on me. Open the door, love, I'll knot you so well you won't remember your name.”

The 'love' stings, but those words alone have Niki's body remembering the sensation of Hunt's cock filling him, and his soaking thighs slide silkily against each other as he takes the few steps to unlock the door again. He doesn't come out. He makes Hunt come in. And when he comes in, Niki actually does faint. Only for fifteen seconds or so, and Hunt catches him with those big Alpha hands, running them all over his skin. It calms him enough to answer coherently when Hunt asks plaintively why he's fighting this so hard.

“It makes me feel like – like an animal,” Niki sighs – just having Hunt's skin against his has reduced the unbearable fever and desperation. “I'm disgusted with myself.” 

He's almost swooning again as Hunt has him step gently into the shower, turning on the water so it's comfortably warm (although it feels cool against Niki's burning skin) and joins him in there. The water sluices over Niki's chest and back and buttocks and thighs, over his face, into his hair. He brings both hands up to wipe it away from his eyes, and when he opens them Hunt is standing very close.

“You are _beautiful_ ,” Hunt tells him softly. “Being an omega is a beautiful thing. Please don't feel disgusted by yourself. You're – if I'd known...”

This is exactly what Niki doesn't want to hear. But at the same time, it's _everything_ he wants to hear. Fucking biology. Why can't he think straight and figure out whether he wants this affection, or if he just wants Hunt to screw him and leave? 

“Fuck,” he moans under his breath, knees buckling, and Hunt is there to catch him again.

“That's the general idea, Niki.”

Those words bring back the burning need, and he keens in the back of his throat, bracing himself against the shower wall and spreading his legs so Hunt can take hold of his hips and – 

“Please,” Niki moans as Hunt goes to his knees behind him, and then he says it again, louder and wanton, as Hunt carefully spreads him open and _licks_ into his quivering entrance. Despite the warm shower, Niki breaks out in goosebumps. He scrunches up his face, trying to remember how to be ashamed as his hips rotate involuntarily, pressing back against Hunt' tongue. His cock feels heavy and hot, so rigid it's nudging up against his belly, jerking every time Hunt's tongue catches his rim.

It's not enough, though, and Hunt must know that because he doesn't keep it up for long. He stands, slips one hand beneath Niki to give him a single stroke, up and down his throbbing cock and then covers Niki with his body. His own cock slides between Niki's buttocks, and now even the shower won't wash away his slick. Niki is moaning continuously now, swearing and pleading. He can smell the musky sweetness of his own slick on Hunt's breath as Hunt bites down on his neck again. The pain of the bite makes him cry out, slowly rising into something akin to a scream when Hunt tilts his hips and takes him in one slow, fluid motion.

“Shh shh shh,” Hunt soothes, “I want you to come. I want you to come for me,” and he's brushing his thumb over the wet tip of Niki's cock. Niki shudders violently, enough so that Hunt's body shakes too, clawing at the shower wall as he spills into Hunt's hand. Hunt moans something that sounds like, 'oh yes' against his shoulder and licks over the bite mark he's just made. Niki hisses through his teeth at the edge of pain with the almost frighteningly intense pleasure. 

Incredibly, he can feel Hunt's knot starting to swell already. It's rare for that to happen to an Alpha. The knot swells after an Alpha's orgasm. Before, that generally only happens when certain emotions are involved and Niki really doesn't want to think about _those_ implications. Hunt is gasping, and even though Niki is so wet and ready, it hurts a little. He hisses through his teeth, and Hunt draws back gently. 

“Back to bed,” he says, “Can't knot you here.”

His voice is quiet, slightly confused. Surely this has happened to him before, with how many people he takes to bed? Right now, though, Niki is too full of heat to care about the thousands of omegas Hunt has fucked and knotted before him. 

Not even bothering to dry off (although Hunt does have the presence of mind to turn off the shower), they stagger back to the bed, never breaking skin-to-skin contact. Hunt pulls the duvet back across the sodden mattress, tugs Niki's legs over his shoulders, practically folding him in half. And then takes him again, so deep and hard Niki sees stars and comes again immediately, digging his nails into Hunt's biceps and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Like that?” Hunt asks, breathless and rasping, “Does that feel better?”

“Don't fucking stop,” Niki growls, winding his fingers in that ridiculous blond hair and tugging until he can feel the swell of Hunt's knot in him again. The Alpha is distracted, licking at the sweat on Niki's collarbones and in the hollow of his throat and grunting his approval, but he rears up when he feels it to look into Niki's face.

“Niki,” he gasps and if Niki is not very much mistaken, there's something like _reverence_ in his voice. In his eyes, too, and Niki has to close his. The knot stretches him, he can feel himself opening for it sweetly and easily. His remaining dignity and shame fly gracefully out of the window and he's reduced to a wet, begging, lustful _mess_. 

“God, too much, not enough, fuck, James, please, more – ” he whimpers desperately, in German, forgetting that Hunt won't understand him. Hunt dips his head, groaning in the back of his throat.

“Stop speaking German, I won't last – ” 

“Don't hold _back_!” Niki snarls, and even in his state he's pleased to find he can still muster a semblance of scorn in his voice. And surprised by how much he wants Hunt to come, to fill him up and then fuck him again and never, ever stop.

“Shit, I'm close,” Hunt moans, pressing his right cheek to Niki's left. His hair curtains across Niki's eyes and Niki murmurs back something nonsensical in German, some command for Hunt to climax, but gentle this time, his prick twitching up against Hunt's belly. Even that light contact is enough to send him into yet another orgasm, and he's suddenly clutching Hunt tightly, hands shaping the twin juts of Hunt's shoulderblades.

“Jesus, you're fucking beautiful,” Hunt replies into Niki's neck, voice breaking on the last word and Niki can _feel_ him throbbing as he comes. 

Niki expects the heat to dissipate, at least a little, in the wake of all this. 

It doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The absolutely incredible [Laurazel](laurazel.tumblr.com) drew some astoundingly gorgeous art to go with this fic and it is [located here](http://00silvad.tumblr.com/post/64586331893/a-very-not-safe-for-work-niki-James-pics) and it is the best thing ever so you must look at it immediately okay? Okay.


	3. touch me again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit more mellow because after this it just becomes so much of an angst-fest that I have to drink a pint of whiskey with a straw as I write. So, um - PORN. RUDE DIRTY SEX ALL OVER THE PLACE. Yep.
> 
> Also I would like to take this opportunity to thank the lovely and wonderful Poziomeczka, who has been amazing and helped me sort out all the feelings and characterization and complicated meta bits of this fic when I was struggling to balance the smut with the angst/etc. Because this was only supposed to be a smutty one-shot. And now it's an epic. And there are problems.
> 
> Lyrics from 'Bent' by Matchbox Twenty.
> 
> Anyway, I have clearly bored you enough with the notes. Onto the filth.

  
**iii.**

'shouldn't be so complicated.  
just touch me and then  
just touch me again.'

Every second spent not touching Hunt's skin is agony. Every moment he's empty is all trembling, dread, panic attack. The heat has reached it's peak, Hunt says, the doctor had told him this would happen. In ordinary heats, this would only last perhaps ten minutes, one frantic mating and the omega would regain his sanity. In Niki's case, it will last several hours. Maybe longer. A full day at the most, Hunt says with a glint in his eye.

Being the sole focus of Hunt's libido in this state is nothing short of glorious. Niki left his shame in the bathroom along with the nightmare. Although they've revisited the shower so someone could remake (or possibly replace) the bed, it hasn't returned. 

(Hunt gave Niki his fingers to suck on while driving into him from behind, so he wouldn't cry out too much and give away his identity. Niki had moaned anyway and bitten on them so much, Hunt had resorted to covering his mouth and murmuring filthy words into his ear, and Niki had come so hard his knees had given way.)

Niki has lost count of the searing orgasms he's had so far, each one just making him want more. Hunt is relentless – manipulating Niki into positions he hadn't previously thought were possible, adorning his neck with sucked bruises – and his mouth, his words, the way he speaks as they writhe against each other. Calling him names that would ordinarily be offensive or just sick-making, but coming from Hunt they sound like the highest praise. It makes Niki blush, despite how wanton he feels.

He's lying across the bed now, eyes wide, pupils blown as he stares wildly up at the ceiling. Hunt is between his legs, mouth wrapped around the leaking tip of his prick and three slick-drenched fingers inside him. Niki's heels are sliding against the sheets, hips juddering, unsure whether to push back to fuck himself on Hunt's fingers or forward into that dirty mouth. He whimpers, high in the back of his throat – it's not enough, not like Hunt's knot, but the way Hunt moans around him and crooks his fingers – it's good, very fucking good.

“You're incredible,” Hunt half-whispers, pausing in his sucking Niki off to lean back and stare openly at his fingers in Niki. “Do you know how good you feel inside, you're like molten silk, I can't stop touching you.”

Niki pushes away the image of Hunt saying that so some faceless girl, as he clearly does, bites his lip and closes his eyes tightly, his hand flying to hold Hunt's wrist and keep his hand there so he can force Hunt's fingers deeper.

“Slut,” Hunt sighs, but in that voice, he may as well have said “Angel.”

Niki doesn't want to think about that, however. He opens his eyes again and exhales slowly, looking down at Hunt through his eyelashes.

“Put your mouth to better use, James,” he sputters, “Stop this poetry talk and suck me.”

“With pleasure,” Hunt grins, evidently happy to see Niki reduced to this, and then his throat is around Niki's aching prick, the fingers of the hand that isn't doing wondrous things inside him playing over his tight balls. Before Niki's eyes roll back into his head, Hunt shifts his weight and Niki catches a glimpse of his erect cock, knot fully swollen at the base. Saliva spurts in his mouth and he grips Hunt's wrist hard enough to break it. 

“James move away I'm going to come oh fuck – ”

Hunt doesn't move and Niki can't hold back. He comes, sweet and powerful, in Hunt's mouth, warmth spreading through his limbs. Instead of rearing up and spitting in disgust, Hunt stays where he is, swallows with a quiet, almost appreciative noise. Once he's finished coming, Niki looks at him curiously and then rolls his eyes. He's pretty sure nothing could surprise him at this point. 

Except he ends up surprising himself, sliding to the end of the bed as Hunt stands and (the nightmare tries to make an unwelcome reappearance) going to his knees on the carpet. He looks up, eyes black with desire, denied release, hormone-fuelled lust, and takes Hunt's cock in his hand. Niki's index finger and thumb touch where they're wrapped around the head, but barely. The tip is wet, gleaming, a pearl of liquid forming at the slit. Niki leans in and swipes it away with his tongue. Hunt makes an odd choking sound and reaches for him, hands burying themselves in Niki's thick dark hair.

If someone had told him yesterday morning that today he'd be in heat and on his knees for James Hunt, he would have been disgusted and had them forcibly removed from his presence. The compulsion to please Hunt, as an Alpha, is strong and Niki is powerless against it. Niki is sure Hunt has had many, many much better blowjobs in his life. He has no finesse, no skill at this at all. His mouth is slack and clumsy and he has no idea what to do with his hands. After several fumbling moments, he gives in, places them on Hunt's thighs and lets Hunt fuck his mouth, flicking his tongue over the head to taste him when Hunt pulls back.  
  
He expects more dirty talk, a veritable barrage of it if he's honest. But Hunt isn't saying a word. He's just inhaling, exhaling, massive lungfuls of air that sound almost painful. He's also moaning, these tiny, desperate noises escaping him like he can't help it. Niki can feel the muscles in Hunt's thighs tensing, fingers running through his hair, little shudders wracking his body. Niki's body is responding to him – the Alpha pheromones are fucking overwhelming at the apex of Hunt's thighs and he feels his opening quiver with need. Slick runs, warm, down his thighs and drips from him, pooling on the floor between his legs. He wants Hunt's fingers there again, doesn't quite dare use his own no matter how desperate he feels.

“Oh, darling,” is all James says as he comes, his seed flooding over Niki's tongue, and his body curls forward, embracing Niki's head and shoulders protectively. Somehow, in sympathy, Niki climaxes too. It's weak, like before Hunt arrived – but it happens, and he whimpers and clings to Hunt pathetically.

Coming back to himself, Hunt looks shell-shocked. He doesn't smile. Breathing hard, he picks Niki up off the floor and lays him on his front on the bed. Niki hisses as his cock brushes against the sheets, but Hunt slides a hand beneath him to stroke it gently.

“Did you come with my cock in your mouth?” Hunt rasps, pushing at Niki's thighs so he can lift his hips up. 

“Uh-hmm,” Niki moans, arching his back, presenting without even knowing what he's doing. 

“Lovely. You're lovely,” Hunt says sincerely, and he places his hands on Niki's buttocks and spreads him open. Niki dips his head and buries his face in a pillow, blushing furiously.

“Do you think you can come with my tongue inside you?” 

“Please,” Niki says quietly, “Yes. Do it.”

Hunt obliges beautifully.

*

Niki wakes up from his half-sleep as the sun is disappearing. Hunt is dozing with a sheet up to his stomach, propped against the headboard, an unlit cigarette hanging sluttishly at the corner of his mouth. Niki should let him sleep, at least for a little while. After all, James let Niki sleep yesterday, and clearly didn't himself – going off to speak with doctors and Marlene while Niki was half-mad. The worst of the heat is surely over now, because he can at least think clearly. Although the need to be filled and to come is still raging. He's still wet, and growing more so. It's starting to hurt again. Niki wonders how he managed to sleep through it.

He lies beside Hunt, making sure their skin is touching but not to wake him, and strokes himself slowly to what feels like the hundredth climax over the past day and night. It barely takes the edge off. He leans his cheek against Hunt's hip, trying to breathe normally, but only succeeding in inhaling the Alpha scent coming from Hunt's crotch. Niki lifts his head and watches, fascinated, as Hunt's cock grows, hardens, visibly beneath the sheet. His mouth fills with saliva again, and he reaches out to cup the thick shape of it. It throbs under his palm and the fabric over the tip darkens with fluid. 

“Niki,” Hunt moans suddenly, and Niki feels him twitch. “Niki,”

Niki is torn. He wants to wake Hunt and have him knot him again – more slick gushes at the thought – but like this, he has regained power over his rival, if only for a moment.

Carefully tugging the sheet down to bare Hunt's cock, Niki drags his fingertips up and down his shaft, watching Hunt's face. His mouth and brow twist in pleasure, lips parting to moan quietly. It's intoxicating to watch. Niki takes him in his hand, moving up and down his shaft, openly staring now, wanting a reaction. He wonders what Hunt would do if he climbed over him, gripped him, sank down on his cock?

Without even realising he'd decided to, Niki sits up, swings his leg over Hunt's lap and lets his cock press between his buttocks. Not inside, not yet, not until he wakes up. He holds the headboard behind Hunt and glides his hips back and forth over Hunt's prick. How can he sleep through this?

“Niki. Fuck,” Hunt moans out again, and a shiver wracks Niki's body. He'd only need to tilt his hips a little, reach behind and –

“You want to fuck me, James?” Niki whispers, heat flaring inside him just from saying those words. “You want to put your cock in me?”  
  
Hunt opens his eyes then, and doesn't look at all surprised to see Niki astride him.

“Look at you,” he sighs, “Gorgeous thing.”

Niki can't speak any more. He can only whimper and rock his hips, waiting for permission, or for Hunt to take back the control. Hunt smiles lazily, brings his hands up to rest lightly on Niki's hips.

“Go on,” he murmurs, “Put me inside you.”

Unbelievable perfect bastard.

Niki raises himself up, holds onto Hunt's cock and lets it breach him. The urge is to slam down on him again and again until they're both spent, but he resists. He slides down slowly, until Hunt is buried so deep inside him, and fees the knot begin to swell again. 

“Not yet,” Niki says huskily, and rises so they can't be tied.

“No,” Hunt agrees, running his hands down Niki's chest, catching at his erection, which is hard and glossy at the tip, parallel to Hunt's belly. “Come on. Ride me. Like you want to. Let go.”

Niki groans at that, and finally begins to move. His thighs are trembling as he rises up, clenching around Hunt's cock. And then he lowers himself down again, buttocks against Hunt's thighs. Hunt moves suddenly, backwards so his tailbone is right against the headboard. It brings their bodies closer, Hunt wraps his arms around Niki's torso and lets him buck wantonly up and down, pressing his lips against the side of Niki's face. Fuck, this affection is going to be Niki's undoing. He half-sobs, and Hunt cups his jaw and kisses him again.

“That's right, love,” he murmurs against Niki's lips. “Take what you want.”

Niki wants to tell him to be quiet, but kisses him instead, wet and open. The scratch of stubble against his chin, the softness of Hunt's lips nearly send him out of his mind. He licks into Hunt's mouth, bites at his lower lip gently – all the time still rising and taking Hunt inside him over and over and over. Hunt's hips are twitching upwards now, driving himself deeper. Niki can tell he wants to leave him all the control, but the Alpha hormones make that impossible. He doesn't care.

“Getting close,” Hunt groans. “Want you to come all over me.”

Niki makes an agreeable moaning choking sound. Arching his back, he rises up one final time and then clenches, sliding slowly slowly slowly down and taking Hunt's rapidly burgeoning knot into his body. 

“Oh,” Hunt gasps, “Fuck. I'm gonna come.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Niki snarls, “Come in me.”

They come together. It's exquisitely primal, Niki spilling himself over Hunt's chest and stomach and clenching around him, keeping him inside. Niki would be repulsed if he even remembered how to be. Sweat gleams on both their bodies, snarling their hair, both of them tearlessly sobbing in pleasure. Niki rests his head on Hunt's shoulder, utterly spent and sated, and Hunt holds him as they wait for his knot to go down.

“Shit,” Niki says several long moments later.

“What?” Hunt asks, the contentment evident in his voice.

“My heat. It's – I think it's over.”

“Not possible.” Hunt says.

“No, it – smell me.”

Niki had almost forgotten what it felt like to _not_ need Hunt's cock, or fingers, or tongue – some part of Hunt, anyway – inside him every minute of the day. He's not running away, not yet – but for the first time since the heat started, he feels like he could walk away and remain quite well. The itching ache in his body has all but gone. Tiredness is setting into his bones – Niki doesn't know if that's normal, but he doesn't care. He feels like he's run a marathon.

“You're right,” Hunt says, inhaling Niki's neck deeply. “How the hell?”

“Well, thank fuck for that.” Niki says, more sharply than he means to. Hunt won't look at him, keeps looking down between their bodies as Niki climbs off him. “I'm going to shower.”

“All right.” 

Hunt sounds despondent. Probably because all the convenient sex on tap is no longer available, Niki thinks as he washes every part of himself thoroughly with rosemary-scented soap. Now Hunt will have to go and find someone else just as willing, and that will be a mission. Niki shudders slightly as he remembered just how willing he'd been. But it's all right now. He'll go back on his suppressants and he will never, never let this happen again. 

Niki is glad when he emerges from the shower to find James has left. He's saved them both from the most awkward goodbye in history. How do you bid farewell to your rival, who saved your life by spending the best part of two days and nights fucking you into oblivion in every conceivable way?

He puts on a polo neck sweater before leaving the room, hiding the innumerable bruises around his neck and collarbones. The bite marks twinge exquisitely, as does his heart (why?) and he leaves the hotel quickly and quietly. Not checking out. He'll call later and settle that. Not wondering where James has gone. 

And neither of them have any idea what they have done.


	4. it hurts to live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay darlings, get your booze and tissues ready because it's super-angst time! I had a bottle of wine on standby while I completed this and God knows it is needed. 
> 
> I also want to warn you - I've never written mpreg before, and I've probably done it horribly. And I'm sorry for those of you who squick at it - I thought I did too until I was writing this fic, and it just sort of happened. I won't be offended if some people stop reading because this isn't the way they wanted it to go, but I'd rather you didn't tell me if that's the case. Honestly, it isn't the way I intended it to go either. But here we have it. If you care to look, [here](http://nerdyglow.tumblr.com/post/64682481322/more-rush-omegaverse-info-headcanon-bullshit) is info on omega pregnancy in my own personal omegaverse.
> 
> Also I'm sorry to everyone who's just reading this for the smut, because it's a little thin on the ground through these next few chapters. However! I will be writing more light-hearted smutty fics on the side. If nothing else, I'll need to for the purposes of unbreaking my heart after writing this.
> 
> Right. Enough of my list of faily excuses. On we go.
> 
> Lyrics from 'Santa Monica' by Theory Of A Deadman.

  
**iv.**

'My bones will break,  
and my heart will give.  
Oh, it hurts to live.'

He's naked, lying on his huge hotel bed with one lovely beta girl at his shoulder (he can't take another omega, just can't), hands caressing his chest, and another one between his legs. Her plump lips are painted obscene pink, leaving gaudy slug trails on his skin as she makes her way towards his cock. Which is not even remotely hard. James has never felt so _wrong_.

Maybe he's had too much whiskey. In the days that followed the – what can he say? - the _incident_ after the British Grand Prix, James has been drinking more than ever. It doesn't make him feel good any more – it makes him sick and slow and maudlin, but it also makes him forget about the – the Austrian who turned out to be an omega. And the way his skin felt, burning hot. And how wet he was – god – so wet. And his little crooked mouth and the noises that came from it when James took him from behind and on his back.

There's a stirring in his prick, now, thinking about that, and the woman between his legs – Janey or Joanie or something like that – flashes him a smug smile and wraps her hand around him. For fuck's sake. The girls were meant to take his mind _off_ what happened. James closes his eyes and remembers Niki on his knees – fuck, coming without being touched, with only his lips on James's cock.

The girl beside James suddenly throws her leg over his chest, her panty-clad crotch close to his face. This should be heaven, but the cloying scent of her almost makes him cringe. Half-heartedly, he raises a hand to place it on her thigh and tries to smile up at her. His other hands gropes for the very large tumbler of whiskey on the bedside cabinet and he chugs it down, even though it makes his stomach roll. 

Two minutes later, he shoots upright, dislodging the girl on his chest and scrambles off the bed, running to the bathroom. The whiskey and the nothing else in his stomach doesn't quite make a reappearance, but almost. James leans both hands on the sink, weak and shaking, only half-hearing the women in his room asking quietly if he's okay. But the pitch of their voices drills into his head and he can't stand it.

“You'll have to go now.” James says to them, locating his underwear and pulling it back on.

“Why?” Joanie/Janey asks, indignant. “We haven't started yet!”

“Please,” James says, “I can't. Not tonight. I'm sorry. Please go.”

“But – ”

They're pouting, the two of them, side by side, looking up at him pleadingly. James rubs a hand across his eyes to block out the image of Niki's face with that same expression (only all the sweeter) and opens the door. 

“Come on, get your clothes. I can't do this today.”

“Well, another time?” says the girl who's name he can't remember, snapping her bra back on.

“Sure. Of course.” James says, nausea gripping him again.

They're only barely decent when James urges them out of the door. They can finish dressing in the corridor for all he cares. And James can go and get his whiskey and his fags and drink and smoke until he's sick. It's the only way he knows how to deal with this aching emptiness which fucking can't be because of Niki. It can't. It's just the last of the whole incident still lingering with him (it was days ago). Something to do with hormones, maybe his rut is coming and his body wants an omega (wants _Niki_ ).

He swigs down whiskey until the room dissolves.

*

Two hour's plane journey away, Niki hurtles out of bed and into the bathroom, collapsing beside the toilet and dry heaving violently. Again, nothing happens except his stomach muscles contracting and feeling as if they're about to rupture. Marlene stands in the doorway, eyes full of concern.

This is the first day the symptoms have really begun to show, and Niki feels as if he's been hit by a truck. Or fallen from a cliff. Or been flattened by a steamroller. 

He's been borderline frighteningly lucky, so far. When he'd left the hotel after James and met Marlene an hour later, she'd held him close and hadn't reacted. It was only a few hours later, when they were flying over Vienna and the pilot had just announced their descent, that she'd realised. She had been reading a magazine, letting Niki's head rest on her elegant shoulder, and suddenly, she had twitched and turned to him, taking a sniff of his hair.

“What's wrong?” Niki had asked sleepily.

Marlene hadn't answered. But when they'd stood up to leave the plane, she'd draped her jacket around his shoulders. Niki had shot her a strange look, but carried it with him as they left the airport. He hadn't realised why at the time, but her beta scent on the garment had saved him.

Thank god for Marlene. Niki doesn't know what he would have done without her. His career would be over, certainly. And there would be headlines. And crowds of paparazzi outside the house.

As soon as they were home, Niki had gone straight to bed and slept for sixteen hours straight. His dreams had been the remnants of the heat hormones, he supposed – full of Hunt and sunlight and naked skin, and he'd woken up all slick and trembling again and taken yet another shower. When he'd come out, Marlene had been waiting, sitting on the end of their unmade bed.

“What's going on?” Niki had asked shortly. “I don't want to talk about Hunt, if that's what it is. It happened, and wish it hadn't. But there's nothing to be done about it now.”

“You should sit.” Marlene had told him gently.

“Why should I sit?” But he doess as she says, pulling a desk chair into the middle of the room to face her.

“Marlene. What is wrong?” Niki had been able to hear the apprehension in his voice. Her face was so serious, as if the end of the world was upon them. Which, in many ways, it is.

“Your suppressant.” Marlene had said slowly, “It was birth control also, wasn't it?”

Niki had blinked at her. 

“What does that have to do with...” he'd trailed off, pure unadulterated horror blooming through his chest and stomach. The colour drained from his face, and from the room, turning it a sick grey, and he'd thrust his head quickly between his knees to keep from passing out. Marlene had knelt beside him, stroked his hair. Of course, there was nothing she could do.

“I'm so sorry, Niki.” she'd whispered. “I realised I could smell it on you as we were coming in to land. There's no mistaking it. That's why I gave you my jacket.”

“Oh, _god_ ,” Niki groaned. “That's why my heat stopped. He got me _pregnant_ , the cunt.”

Now, in his dressing gown, kneeling on cold tiles, Niki feels another wave of fury. Not only towards Hunt, but himself as well. So fucking _stupid_. Hunt wouldn't have even considered it, of course. Birth control is the omega's responsibility. Even though Niki had been out of his mind with heat and it had been the absolute furthest thing from his thoughts.

Heat was bad, yes, but this is a thousand times worse. He's so tired he can't leave the house, so sick and cramping and miserable. He can't take his suppressants any more, of course. They do terrible things during pregnancy, and there are enough hormones racing through his body as it is. Marlene (oh, what would he do without her?) has miraculously gotten hold of some bizarre spray to mask the scent of pregnant omega, but the German Grand Prix is on the horizon and every time Niki thinks about it, he ends up back in the bathroom either voiding the contents of his stomach or retching pathetically. 

Later, Niki wakes up slowly, wrapped in the bedcovers, and for a few blessed moments he forgets everything that happened since July the 18th. And then a twinging cramp makes itself known across his belly and back and he curls up in misery.

He can hear Marlene talking quietly on the phone in the next room. She sounds soft yet agitated, but Niki hasn't the energy to wonder who she could be talking to.

It isn't long before he finds out.

*

“Hello? Mr Hunt?”

“Who is this?”

“Marlene Lauda.”

“... oh. Is Niki – ” 

A clatter and a stream of swear words, as if the phone has been dropped to the floor. Then, a nervous cough.

“Are you all right, Mr Hunt?”

“Y-you can call me James.”

“James. Thank you. Is everything all right?”

“Not to be rude, Mrs – um, Mrs Lauda, but can I ask why you're phoning me?”

His voice is trembling.

“Well. It's Niki.”

“What about Niki?”

“Something's wrong.”

Muffled, choked swearing and blaspheming. The sound of a swallow of liquid.

“And you choose _now_ to let me know? I'm on the next flight.”

Marlene gives James the address, and she could swear he's in tears on the other end of the line before they say goodbye and hang up. Well, Marlene says goodbye and hangs up. James swears. And from the cacophony she hears, James also throws the phone across the room.

*

Niki is sitting in an armchair reading when he catches the Alpha scent.

And it's not only an Alpha scent this time. He knows it's Hunt at the door. And the sickness eases slightly. The heaviness in his limbs and eyelids dissipates a little. And he growls in the back of his throat. 

He stays still, gripping the book's edges until they make deep, red ridges in his palm. He hears Marlene greet Hunt, muttering something too low for Niki to hear, but the sound is full of warning. And then hurried footsteps and Hunt is in the doorway with his stupid face and his stupid hair. Niki glares daggers at him across the room. 

Hunt takes a step into the room and stops dead. 

Niki watches Hunt's eyes grow wide, his hands clench into fists. His own, in unconscious imitation, do the same, and he puts his book aside and gets up to face Hunt, letting his scent hit the Alpha fully.

Hunt's hand goes slowly to cover his mouth in utter shock, and he moans something incoherent from behind his palm.

“What the fuck did you say?” Niki spits.

“You're pregnant.” Hunt says faintly, face turning ashen.

“Yes.” Niki's voice is full of cold fury. “With your spawn.” 

He snarls the last word and Hunt sways where he stands. 

“Niki, I – I didn't know, I – shit. I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Good!” Niki blares, “Now you know how I've been feeling!” He storms over to Hunt and squares up to him as best he can, barefoot and smaller in stature and omega. “I cannot leave the house, I am sick all the time, I am so tired I can't move. You have fucking ruined me.” And even as he says it, he's aware of how poorly he _doesn't_ feel now Hunt is in the room. 

Hunt doesn't say anything. He just looks at Niki, hurt and confusion evident in his eyes. And something else. Fucking tenderness. Want. No, Niki is not having that.

He brings his fist back and before Hunt can react, punches him _hard_ in the face. Niki's knuckles thwack against where Hunt's cheekbone joins to his nose and there's a crunch. Hunt reels backwards, falling into the door and slides down the wall, dabbing at his nose. Blood is seeping slowly from it. Niki feels the renewed energy inside himself. Without Hunt here, he wouldn't have been able to summon the energy to punch the Alpha. How's that for irony? Niki laughs bitterly to himself and turns away.

“Niki...” Hunt says plaintively from behind him.

“Fuck off.” is all Niki says in reply, and storms out.

He shuts himself in the room and paces up and down, listening to the sound of Hunt and Marlene talking downstairs. The petulant part of him wants to be angry with Marlene for taking care of Hunt. She's probably cleaning him up and reassuring him. She should feel as much contempt for him as Niki does. After all, she is Niki's wife. And Hunt has just barrelled into their lives, taken it upon himself to fuck Niki through his heat and gotten him pregnant. But all Niki can think about is how rejuvenated he feels with Hunt in the house. There's an electrical, magnetic pull in his body towards Hunt that he's having trouble ignoring. He refuses to give in to it. Hunt got them into this fucking mess. He can come to Niki. 

He does, after an hour.

Without knocking, Hunt enters the room. Niki is still pacing, but he's taken off his shirt. It's too hot in the house with Hunt there, and he's reminded too much of how warm and fragrant the room became when they mated.

“Oh,” Hunt says when he sees Niki's half naked frame hurling itself across the room. 

“Is that all you can say?” Niki asks fiercely. “Aren't you going to apologise?”

Hunt doesn't answer. He's looking intently at Niki's torso. More specifically, at his stomach. Nothing's showing yet, of course, but Niki has seen Alphas around their pregnant mates before and he can imagine quite well how wonderful he must smell and look to Hunt right now.

“I can't be sorry,” Hunt says. “Not for this.” He comes towards Niki cautiously. “I'm sorry you're unhappy – god, you have no idea how sorry I am for that, but I – are you going to punch me again?”

Niki shakes his head. He's not one for brawling, and his point was certainly made.

So Hunt comes to him, puts out a trembling hand and cups Niki's belly. The touch of his hand sets Niki's skin on fire, and it seems Hunt is feeling the same because his eyes flutter closed and he sighs like this is everything he's ever wanted. Dropping to his knees, Hunt wraps an arm around Niki's waist and rubs his cheek gently against the skin of his stomach. Niki can feel the roughness of his five o'clock shadow, the warmth of him. He's never seen anyone look so peaceful, so happy. And despite the fact that his life is over, Niki can't feel any of that. He's just feeling Hunt's happiness and this unfamiliar, tight, aching _need_ for him and – _oh._

“We're bonded, aren't we?” Niki says throatily. 

It's the only explanation.

“Yes.” Hunt says quietly. “I didn't mean for it – I think it happened in the shower. The first time.”

Niki remembers. Hunt had bitten him so hard the bruise still hasn't faded. And his knot swelled before – of course. Niki shakes at the heated memory and puts his hand on Hunt's shoulder.

But it's all right for Hunt. Nothing in his life has to change. He can walk away. His career isn't ruined. And Niki snatches his hand away again. He can't let go of it, just like that.

“I want you to go, now.”

Hunt groans softly against his belly. Everything in Niki's body is telling him not to send Hunt away, but he gently pushes Hunt off him and steps back.

“Please go. Just for now. I'm still so angry with you.” Niki's voice comes out choked.

“All right. But I'm not leaving you alone. I'm not leaving this house.”

And Niki finds he doesn't mind that. Doesn't want Hunt to leave entirely, and it isn't as if he actually could, now they've realised they're bonded. But the weight of everything is too much, and he can't feel anything but want and desire when Hunt is so close to him.

Niki takes a bath when Hunt has left. With the water hot enough to boil an egg. He knows Hunt hasn't even considered the approaching Grand Prix. The shock of finding out Niki is pregnant was too much. He closes his eyes, runs a hand over his still-flat belly under the scalding water. And he prays.


	5. clear my blindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooohhhhkay. Thank you so much for bearing with me, lovelies. I've been away for my best friend's wedding in Barbados with very spotty rubbish internet, so I'm so sorry for the very long wait between chapters. 
> 
> You may need alcohol near the end of this chapter. This is the crash chapter. Although it does get worse after this. Oh god. I'm sorry for putting you through this. I wanted to inform everyone that there will be a companion fic going up alongside this fic in a few chapter's time - one where Niki does not race at Nurburgring, and there is a lot of domestic fluff and pregnant sex, etc. So you can essentially choose your own ending.
> 
> ANYWAY. Here we go. I really fucking hope I've done this right. Love to every reader I have. <3 Please don't hate me.
> 
> Lyrics from 'Sunshine On Leith' by The Proclaimers. Fucking amazing band.

  
**v.**

'your beauty and kindness  
made tears clear my blindness.'

“I don't want you to race,”

James says this plaintively, in the doorway of Niki's bedroom two days later. Niki can look at him now without glowering in resentment – his anger, like a frozen shard inside him, is melting slowly every day that James is near him. Niki now thinks of him as _James_ , rather than Hunt, and he isn't quite sure how that transition happened. He looks over at the man, trying to scowl, and James's face is open and honest.

“It's not up to you,” Niki tells him firmly. “Think about it, James. I ran away from the last race – you followed, and I'm sure you did not do it inconspicuously. We both disappeared. And now I forfeit the race in Germany?”

“Sorry – what am I thinking about, Niki?”

James is distracted, as he has been every time he's set eyes on Niki since he arrived. He can't seem to stay away, always needing to touch Niki or simply be close to him. Hovering protectively whenever Niki goes into another room, or into the garden to breathe some fresh air because he's sick of being inside constantly. It should be incredibly irritating, but Niki just feels safe with James near. He doesn't say so, but he can tell by James's smile that he's grateful for Niki's quiet appreciation. 

This isn't constant. Niki's mood veers dangerously, from wanting James's presence to spitting with anger at him all over again. Several times over the last two days, he has snarled bitterly that James has ruined his life and shut himself away. James sat outside his bedroom door on a cushion and read a book. He's stopped smoking entirely; doesn't even have a sneaky cigarette in the garden when he thinks Niki and Marlene won't notice. 

James's body language now is like that of someone who has dropped their most treasured possession into a roaring fire, and is trying desperately to retrieve it without being burned too badly.

“Someone is likely to figure it out. Someone is almost certain to suspect something. And that beta spray Marlene found for me does not work 100%.”

“95%, Niki.”

That's another thing. James won't stop saying Niki's name when he talks to him. It's as if the sound of Niki's name in James's mouth tastes sweet.

“That is for ordinary omegas. Heat and pregnancy reduce the percentage. It says so on the label.” Niki shoots back. 

“Surely that's all the more reason _not_ to race.”

“No,” Niki insists, “I will just get it over with, as quick as possible, and then leave.”

“But what about the following race? And the one after that?” James asks. “In about four weeks you'll start to show.”

The end of that sentence turns slow and dreamy and Niki can tell by the way James's gaze has drifted (as it so often does) to his belly, that James is picturing him big and heavy with their child. He closes his own eyes, suppressing the flutter of panic at the way his body is going to change, and opens them again to look into James's face.

“Let's worry about that later.”

“I just want you safe, Niki.” James sounds pained. “I _need_ you safe. And the – our – ” He comes into the room, and Niki doesn't stop him. 

They haven't touched sexually since realising they're bonded. Niki can tell James badly wants to, but he's only let James to caress him briefly – on the shoulder, the knee, and he's sat close to him in the evenings. His lingering resentment hasn't allowed him to let James in so far, even though it's impossible to send him away.

“Our baby,” James finishes reverently. “The thought of you in danger makes my head hurt.”

 _Their baby._ It's still such an alien concept to Niki, even though every day he can feel it making itself known throughout his body. He backs away slowly as James comes to him, towards the bed, looks into James's eyes and thinks, _my Alpha, my bondmate, the father of my child._

James's hands come to rest on Niki's waist, pulling the omega's smaller body against him, and tucks his chin against the top of Niki's head, inhaling deeply. Niki thinks about pulling away, but he's pulled away enough. He wants this, much as he is loath to admit it, and he lets himself relax into James's embrace.

“Is this okay?” James murmurs, although Niki has already clearly melted against him.

“I'd scratch your eyes out if it wasn't,” Niki lies, looping his arms around James's neck. “M'still angry with you, though.”

“I don't think you'll ever really forgive me.” James says, “I've made my peace with it, love.” He slips a hand between their bodies to touch Niki's belly through his shirt. It's flat still, but there's a softness developing there that no one but an Alpha would notice.

“I'll make peace with it,” Niki whispers, “Eventually.”

Perhaps he will. Perhaps. He can't change the fact that it was never, ever his intention to bear a child, and certainly not the child of his rival. And despite how James practically shines from every pore when he looks at Niki, it was never James's intention to impregnate him. Nor was it his choice to bond them. And while James can continue his career, it would be in jeopardy if the public knew he and Niki are bonded and pregnant. No more girls, no more boozing, no more wild nights. No matter how he disapproved, Niki never wanted to force James into changing who he is. Guilt swells in his chest and he leans in closer to James, closing his eyes against the onslaught of conflicting emotions.

James smells incredible – not that he didn't before, but it seems Niki's senses are heightened now, as they were when he was in heat. He doesn't want to know if this is yet another symptom of pregnancy. He just wants to breathe in the musky scent of his bondmate and whimper quietly at the way James's fingers are pressing, kneading the back of his neck, buried in his thick hair.

“Don't race,” James sighs, his warm hand running under Niki's shirt and cupping against his belly.

“Shut up,” Niki pleads, the words coming out on a moan, “I have to. You know I have to.”

“Rebellious omega,” James tells him, sounding just as affectionate, just as lost in sensation. “I wouldn't expect anything less from you, though.”

“Shut _up_ about it,” Niki lifts himself up onto his toes so he can tilt his head back and offer his mouth. It's a display of utter submission and Niki can hardly believe it of himself. He was worse in heat, though, and this cocktail of hormones swimming in his body isn't so very different.

James kisses him then, lifting him off his feet and letting them fall gently back onto the bed with Niki astride his hips. He's wearing slouchy, light blue pyjama trousers and James laughs softly as he watches Niki grow slowly hard, rocking against him.

“Are you going to get cross and storm out in the middle of this?” James asks, helping Niki out of his shirt with greedy hands that immediately move to touch every inch of skin they can.

“I might,” Niki says truthfully, but he can't see it happening from here. He can't keep his hands off James either, their combined scents clouded around them, intoxicating. James turns them over, quickly ridding himself of his shirt and jeans and pulling Niki's trousers down to his ankles. Niki has to kick them off and James settles between his legs, resting most of his weight on his elbows so he doesn't crush Niki. 

They kiss for what seems like hours – the urgency of the heat last time they coupled is gone, replaced by a slow burning need. James makes love to Niki's mouth, sucking on his lower lip, licking into him, biting down every so gently. He gently rotates his hips, rubbing his erection against the crease where Niki's thigh meets his groin, knot already swelled full. Niki reciprocates, his hips lifting languidly to press his prick against James's abdomen. He's sure he could come simply from this, but with every kiss he is growing wetter and he can almost hear the thud of James's heartbeat, and he finds himself tilting his hips up and breathing in James's ear, “Do it.”

“Do what, Niki?”

“Don't make me say it.”

“You want me inside you?”

Instead of answering, Niki digs his heels hard into James's buttocks, and James moves his hand between them to aim himself and slides quickly inside Niki. He sits up straight, bringing Niki's legs to cross ankles behind his neck and thrusts into him deep and hard like that, staring down at Niki's body as he does so. 

They come together. Niki shivers and cries out, unable to contain himself, oversensitive with the pregnancy hormones. James grasps at his buttocks and groans long and deep, his hand flying to cup Niki's belly again as he climaxes.

“Please don't race at Nürburgring .” James whispers, curling against Niki's back, hand still on his belly on the way to sleep.

“I told you to shut up about that,” Niki's voice comes out of the dark, half-unconscious already.

*

Rain is beating down at Nürburgring . 

Niki is coated head to foot in beta scent spray. James and Marlene had made sure of it before he left the hotel that morning, and James had wrinkled his nose and remarked how wrong Niki smelled, which is a good sign. And the rain should make him feel safer – even if it washes away the beta scent, it will certainly dull the scent of pregnant omega.

But for the first time, Niki feels afraid. Not just for himself, but for their baby, and for James. This is not only about him any more. He wants to call the race off, no matter the suspicion. 

“You were right,” he hisses in James's ear. “This is too dangerous. I don't want to race. The weather will provide enough cover for this not to appear suspicious, yes?” He's desperate for validation.

“Yes,” James agrees. “I'll ask for it to be cancelled.”

*

Niki sits at the back of the room, hunched in on himself, hardly daring to breathe should he arouse suspicion, as James presents his case for boycotting the race. The other drivers scoff, roll their eyes.

“Come on, Hunt. What's wrong with you?” one shouts – Niki can't tell who – and James flinches. This is out of character, strange for reckless aggressive Hunt to be calling off a race he could clearly win. He wants to make himself invisible, praying that the beta spray will work as well as it claims. 

“Yeah – who are you, and what did you do with James Hunt?” another voice jeers, and James visibly shrinks. It's not as if he can say, 'My pregnant mate is competing and I fear desperately for his and my future child's safety!'. He is shouted down repeatedly by the rest of the drivers, but stands his ground.

“I don't want this fucking race to go ahead,” James snarls, trying not to look at Niki but failing, his eyes pleading – his eyes, saying _I'm sorry, I tried_.

“I don't know know what the hell's wrong with you, Hunt.” sneers some other voice.

They take a vote. The race will go ahead.

Every other driver leaves to prepare. James sits with his head in his hands, and Niki gets up to leave the room. Everything in him wants him to go to James, reassure him, comfort him. But he can't. This is going to happen. He has to face the music.

*

Niki keeps up the charade as he's preparing to speed away, asking sharply whether James has changed tires and demanding that they stay with the wets too. God, what the fuck would they say if they knew that he's going to have James Hunt's child? He shakes away the thought, speeds off into the distance. It isn't a good start; his wheels spin and he's in 10th position.

The rain stops after the first lap and Niki panics a little, hoping against hope that the beta spray will keep working. He drives into the pits to change tyres, wanting so badly to make up for lost time. He doesn't allow himself to be distracted by the worry about James and the baby, so long as no one scents him, it's all going to be okay. Zooming off again, he concentrates hard.

It doesn't pay off. Before - _just before_ \- the Bergwerk right hand curve, Niki feels the car _snap_ to the right and veer off the track. He can't think. He gasps for breath, panic spiking through him as he spins through the fencing and bounces back. For a moment – a split second – and he knows he'll never feel such ignorant bliss ever again, he thinks he might be okay. 

And then his car is engulfed in flames. 

Niki doesn't feel the heat immediately. He sees the orange-red-yellow, hears the roar of fire. He doesn't feel agony, even when he sees flames licking his skin. There is pain – sharp, awful, wrenching pain in his stomach and abdomen, and panic gripping his throat. He thinks _James_ and _no_ and _please_ and he can't move and now he's all too aware that he's fucking burning. This can't happen. He's wide-eyed in the inferno and his eyes are dry, so hot and dry it hurts to blink them. He's screaming at faceless people to get him out until the burning robs him of his voice and he can only croak. This isn't real.

This can't be real.


	6. he cried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I could, I would hand out a bottle of alcohol of your choice, a huge bar of chocolate and a box of tissues to every single one of you for this chapter, my readers. It's short, but I couldn't bear to draw it out any longer. I'm sorry for the heartache and I'm hoping to get some of the alternate fic written very soon. 
> 
> Love you all. Please don't hate me for this.
> 
> Lyrics from 'He Cried' by Morrissey.

  
**vi.**

'and so he froze  
where he stood,  
and he looked  
to the ground  
and he cried,  
he cried.'

“You're going to fucking crash!” Alastair snarls. “Let me drive!”

James doesn't answer. He hasn't spoken a word since he'd got out of his car at Nurburgring. He'd immediately asked after Niki, knowing everyone would think it ordinary – but when Alastair had explained that Niki had crashed and was on his way to hopsital, James had gone to his knees on the tarmac, face turning rapidly grey.

Alastair said the press should be told James had been taken ill, and hauled him up off the still-damp ground. They'd left the paddock, whereupon James had vomited violently and painfully, still stumbling along as he did and getting it all over his shoes. And thank fuck Alastair had a rental car, because he's sure James wouldn't have thought twice about breaking into the first one he saw. He's ignored Alastair's questioning of _what the fuck is going on, James?_ , and his pleas for an explanation and now rather terrified barking at James to drive more carefully. He's driving at breakneck speed, as usual – which is great on the track, but with other cars and the highway code taken into play, is going to get him arrested before long. 

They've been driving like this for an hour, and James is crying, not even attempting to stop himself or wipe the tears and snot from his face. Alastair is entirely baffled and afraid for James's sanity, and a little for his own life. James is driving instinctually; Alastair doesn't know where they're going or why, and James is making this noise – this kind of low-level, quiet screaming in the back of his throat. 

Alastair should slap him, perhaps. He should certainly be calling someone who can help James better than he can, but the idea of calling mental health professionals out to a rental car speeding across Germany is ridiculous. He wants to know where the fuck this came from, whether it's something to do with Lauda, and where in the name of all that is holy James is driving to, but it's useless to ask. So he sits, occasionally clinging to his seat when James pulls a particularly dangerous move on the road, and doesn't speak again.

How James knew the way to the hospital they eventually pull up at is anyone's guess. He throws himself from the car, growling four words to Alastair.

“Get me a lawyer.”

“Why do you need a – ”

James has already gone charging into the trauma clinic. Alastair sits with his head in his hands, wondering if he's actually fallen asleep at the race and is dreaming all this. Then he sighs, slides over the the driver's seat so he can dutifully park the car, and goes to the nearest payphone to do as James has asked.

*

“Mr Hunt?”

There's a doctor at his side moments after James has choked Niki's name to the woman behind the desk, a hand on his elbow, leading him away from the people looking curiously at the white, wet-faced racing driver in the lobby. He leads James briskly down a corridor marked 'NO ACCESS', talking quickly and quietly as they go. 

“Mrs Lauda is here. She has explained to me the bond between you and Mr Lauda. A lawyer is here to make sure it is not revealed to the public.”

A tiny part of James sags in relief. He wouldn't care if the world found out he and Niki are bonded, but he knows that Niki would. And he only cares about Niki. Thank god for Marlene. Fresh tears pour down James's face as the doctor leads him into a small, chemical-smelling office and tells him to take a seat. He hasn't spoken yet, can't bring himself to ask if everyone is okay. _Everyone_. The doctor sits behind his desk and regards James with such a look of pity on his face that James wants to be sick again.

“Mr Lauda is alive,” he begins, sounding as if the words are being pulled out of him as easily as teeth. Weight is lifted from James's soul. “He is in a coma. He has suffered severe burns and damage to his lungs and blood.” James swallows hard. “At this stage, it is not clear if he will live.”

“No,” James exhales, unable to say anything else. His mind feels scrambled – white noise, flickering like a broken television set. The room fades out of focus around him. The doctor leans forward across his desk, his earnest face blurring around the edges.

“I understand, Mr Hunt, that your bondmate was in the early stages of pregnancy.”

_Was._

All the strength seems to leave James's body. His lips part to ask for details, but he can only croak. He nods miserably.

“I'm afraid,” the doctor begins, wincing, “The trauma was too great. He miscarried immediately after the crash. Even before he was pulled from the car.” 

James doesn't hear any more. The doctor is still talking, but he sounds deep and echoey and far away. Dark spots appear in front of James's eyes, bigger and blacker until he cannot see anything and realises that he's passing out.

*

Niki is alive. The only thing James can focus on is that Niki is alive.

Perhaps if he keeps thinking it, like a mantra, it won't hurt so badly. James has heard of heartache, of course, but he had no idea it could be so literal. He's having trouble breathing, as if his heart and lungs and being constricted. There is a sharp, hot hurt in his neck and shoulders. His lower back thrums with a darker, lower pain. He can't eat, even though nurses keep bringing him food and tea. Everything he swallows gets stuck in his throat and sooner or later makes a noisy reappearance. 

All he can do is pace the corridor while Marlene sits silently and stony-faced in a hospital chair. Occasionally, when James feels able to stop pacing, he sits beside her and she holds him. Frequently, he curls into her, sobbing openly and violently into her cashmere chest, and she rests her chin on the top of his head, and he feels her tears dripping into his hair. She is stronger than him, steadfast, and James is sure that without her he would have drunk himself into his own coma by now. 

He hates himself every moment. For not having the power to cancel the race. For collapsing pathetically when he heard of Niki's crash. For not being here at the clinic sooner. Most of all, because he can't be stronger for Niki. He can't stop crying; even when he isn't actively sobbing there are tears on his face. He hates himself because Niki is the one burned and poisoned and no longer pregnant and James is the one weeping and helpless and pitiful.

It seems like days – the hours and minutes shrink into nothing – until a doctor comes out. This one clearly does not speak English – he speaks to Marlene, and James looks at her face and _prays_. 

She smiles. Her eyes are wide and full of tears, but she smiles.

And then she turns to James. Takes his hand.

“He's awake!” she says joyfully, “He told the priest to leave and he asked for us!”

They run, hand-in-hand, down the corridor like two children, breathless and eager – but their happiness is short-lived. 

The lovely, snippish, beautiful omega with James's child growing inside him has become an inflamed red-and-yellow horror. The face James remembers contorting itself in pleasure and anger and affection is almost unrecognisable. Niki is swathed in bandages, a tube in his mouth, horrendous beeping machines attached to every part of him. James can hear the awful rattle of his breathing. 

Marlene sits on the end of the bed, her hand over her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. 

James kneels beside Niki, curling his arms around his head, grabbing handfuls of the sheets covering Niki's body. He trembles so hard, the bed shakes and Marlene puts her hand on his shoulder. The full, terrible weight of what has happened falls on him now, and he forgets how to breathe. 

James covers his face and howls.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the chariots, they rise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052608) by [nerdyglow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyglow/pseuds/nerdyglow)




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